The Goddess

Prologue:

March, 2014.

Frieda slowly squeezed open one eye. Her worry wart husband had called earlier, awakened her, and try as she might she hadn't quite been able to get back to sleep. She peered lazily over at the man snoring beside her; drool, like the drip of a leaky faucet was seeping from his open mouth. She could see his fillings and the lighter brighter caps on several of his molars. He had ear wax. At least no hair was growing there; not like the last one.

That last one, like her first had started off well, better than expected anyway; the intensity of the thing, the thrill of it, the secret meetings, the deviousness of it, the private messages filled with promises, the hot sex, and then the letdown, always the letdown. These things, this was her third; the sheer stupidity of them. Three times of "maybe this one's 'the one'", but one for what? And afterward there was the boredom, the meaningless triviality of it all, not to mention the guilt. Guilt, oh brother, that was a joke. Was she ever not guilty?

Why'd she do it? Why the risk? Was it fun? Exciting? Dangerous? No, men weren't fun, they were boring. It was all so banal. Why did she do it? Did she even care? Why go out and risk everything for a cheap thrill when she had a pat hand at home. Garrett, her husband was her pat hand. Why'd she pick him? Why'd she marry him? Why did that always turn out to be such a trick question? Why'd she even care? She didn't care. No she did. Did she? She knew she was supposed to; Garrett had always been good to her.

Frieda glanced at the man beside her; a curiosity this one, maybe the same age as her husband; much too young for Viagra, yet he'd taken one. This one had the whitest brightest front teeth. She was sure he used one of those cleaners or more likely had it done. He was handsome, more handsome than Garrett, not that it mattered. Oh well...

Dr. Roland Menisci, that was this one's name; he was a resident internist at one of the big hospitals down in the city. He was married and had one child, a boy; he'd shown her some pictures, he had a handsome little boy and a beautiful wife. Like she really cared what they looked like or when he'd said they were away vacationing in Florida. She thought, one lie was as good as another. After all she'd told Garrett her seminar could last the whole week. Of course Garrett believed her; he believed everything she said. Garrett trusted her. She trusted him too. Garrett was her main man.

Menisci really wasn't anything like her husband. Oh they were the same age, but that's where it ended. Menisci was a giant, tall, maybe 6'6". He was big, muscular, no he was muscle bound, like the type who turned to flab too soon.

Her husband was scrawny; not weak scrawny just skinny. He was a carpenter. Garrett was a small man, no not short, just small, small hands like a girl, small feet, and thin legs, almost no thighs, nothing like the big men who worked with and for him. She believed real men had to have that masculine look; the narrow waist and broad shoulders, that great V she liked to look at. Not Garrett; he was skinny from bottom to top, no ass, no pecks, no shoulders, nothing. She often wondered why she married him. Garrett was pretty; give him some tits and he could've a made a great girl. Well except for his crotch; that was different. She bet she could make him dress up like a woman. They could wrap his penis down, put him in a dress, and she could make him go to some distant city where she could parade him around like he was her girlfriend. He wouldn't like it, but he'd do it. He did everything she said. That was because he loved her.

Men all thought with their crotches. Garrett didn't. Garrett lived in a fantasy world. All he dreamed about was... her, her and the kids, but mostly her. He worshipped her. Any woman would be glad to have a man like him. Why was she here-with this one?

She looked back at her doctor. Menisci was more muscular, but not in a hard way; she'd found that out the first time they'd gotten together. Menisci with clothes on looked like an Adonis, but unclothed he looked a lot different, good form, good shape, but soft, kind of slack.

She looked down at his limp shaft. No shaft wasn't the right word; worm, shriveled worm worked better. He could get it up; well sort of. Last night it was up, but hard? Not really. Garrett never had a problem. If that was all she wanted she'd be home right now. What did she want? She didn't know, couldn't say, but she wanted, wanted something. Why was she so unhappy? She couldn't remember ever being really happy. No that wasn't true, there'd been times. Sometimes Garrett made her happy; anyway, he tried all the time.

She been with other men since she'd gotten married. The doctor was her third; three men in the few years since Jessie was born. They never lasted; three maybe four meetings, and that was it. She'd give the doctor one more. Of the three he was the youngest. The other two were in their fifties; first a lawyer, the second a college teacher, not even a professor. Somewhere out there was a man, a real man. There had been one once, but... No that wasn't true.

The doctor rolled over. He was waking up. Yeah, one more for him. That's all. What a waste. All three of them a waste of time. Why'd she even do it? She had a man, a good one too, he adored her. Why was she doing this? Sure she had reasons... reasons... phony reasons. Did she really know why?

The doctor opened his eyes, "How was I? Great I'll bet; better than your little guy at home."

She was getting a headache, she frowned, "Let's leave family out of it. You were OK."

He pointed to his penis, "Want some more right now? Why don't you get down there and give me a little..." he made a sucking sound with his mouth.

Frieda grimaced, "Not in this lifetime."

He grinned maliciously, "You don't want to give your loving man a good morning treat?"

Frieda grinned just as malevolently, "If I don't go down on my husband, you don't think I'd go down for you."

The stupid grin refused to leave his face, "What? Your little hubbie doesn't get his teenie wienie pecker sucked off?"

No smile then, she said, "I don't put my mouth where piss comes out, and I already said, knock it off about me and mine," She got up, "I've got to go."

Humor forgotten he looked at the clock, "Shit it's late. Here let me walk you out. We'll get together again in a few days."

As he lumbered out of the bed, groping for his undies she noticed he had shit streaks on them and a yellow spot on the front, and yeah he was wearing tighty whities. Why did all the men she'd done wear those things? Garrett didn't; he wore boxers. She thought how funny he sometimes looked standing in front of her in their bedroom, skinny as a stick, boxers flaring out from his skinny hips. The times she saw him like that she wanted to laugh. She didn't though; the always serious, big calf-eyed Garrett needed to be controlled, not enjoyed. Did she love him? She thought so, maybe. She wished she knew. What was love anyway? It sure wasn't what they showed on Hallmark.

Frieda thought about her aunt Ginger, her mother's sister. She'd died of cervical cancer. Ginger had been her favorite person. Yes, she actually loved someone, she'd loved Ginger. She remembered the funeral, the viewing. Ginger looked so beautiful lying there in her mahogany coffin. Frieda envied her, Ginger was at peace. She thought about her often. She kept fresh flowers for her in front of her stone. To be like Ginger... to be at rest. Ginger had died in January back in 2011, and Frieda missed her so.

Pulling on her panties she looked at the whale beside her, "You'll want more I know. Text me. Come on. Hurry up. I don't like where I left my car."

II.

And now to our hero...

Sometime the evening before Frieda's husband Garrett groaned.

Tired and just finishing a shower I was all set to and call it a night. My brother and I had put in a hard twelve hours finishing up the roof of a house. Man, I was pooped! I checked the clock; nearly 7:00 p.m. March 3rd, one of the shorter and certainly colder days of the year. I felt like shit, but with the house under roof we could really get going now. I took four more Advil and fell back on the bed exhausted. Coughing again, I just couldn't seem to shake this cold. I lay there half awake, half asleep. I heard the kids and dear old mother-in-law.

~~~V~~~

Next thing I heard was the blare of the siren from the firehouse. I rolled over, damn, it was 4:00 a.m. Shit!

Forrest, my younger brother had been living with us since our mom died rushed in, "Garrett did you hear?"

Yawning, "Yeah, we better go." Forrest and I were volunteer firemen. I groped around, found my work boots and started to fit them back on. Oh God, how I ached all over

Forrest stood by impatiently, "Come on bro."

Together we got down to my pick-up and sped to the firehouse. The fire-truck was just getting ready to pull out when we got there. We found our gear and climbed on. It wasn't a long ride; turned out old Mr. Jensen's barn, probably overloaded with too much debris, had gone up. Using the water from Jensen's pond they soon had things under control and were headed back to the station, Forrest, a friend Barney Robinson and me riding along side by side. I felt so bad I could hardly hold on.

As we turned the corner we drove by a couple of not so well built MacMansions between Hallston Mill and Frederick's Schoolhouse Road. Barney leaned toward me pointing to something in the woods by one of the lots, "Isn't that Frieda's car?"

Being very early, barely 6:00 a.m. and the sky was just a faint yellow, but I still recognized her dark red Jeep Cherokee. I recognized it because it had its own piece of unique window dressing, a bright red luminescent decal on the rear window that said "Make a Difference". I looked at Barney, then Forrest, but didn't say anything. What could I say; my wife was supposed to be sixty miles away at some charity thing in another town.

Frieda, my wife of fifteen years was a local activist. Thanks to her father's connections she was in and out of all sorts of charities. She had her own personal money from a trust fund set up by her deceased aunt that enabled her to do just about anything she wanted, and that included buying two cars, the red jeep and a brand new black Lexus. Since my income paid all the bills everything else that mattered was in my name. For the past several days she was supposed to be in Lancaster at some kind of seminar. I remembered, because she said she was excited about going. Now what was her car doing in the woods?

I looked at Forrest, he muttered, "That's Frieda's car. What's it doing there?"

It was the middle of the week, and she wasn't due home till later that day. What could I say, not much? I looked back up the road to the houses, "I'll handle it."

Both Forrest and Barney looked away.

~~V~~

As soon as we got back to the firehouse Forrest said he was going to stick around a while so I took my pick-up, an aged black heavily dented and well rusted Chevy Suburban, got back in and took off. I kept thinking. I kept trying to find an excuse for what I was afraid was happening. Frieda had been acting strangely lately, stranger than usual; her travel and out of the house hours seemed a different, more confusing. She'd always been in and out at all the time, but lately things seemed odder even than normal. Never much of a talker she'd been even less communicative the last few weeks, and a couple times the past weeks she'd found a reason to sleep downstairs instead of coming up to bed. It bothered me; it had happened before.

Our romantic life; well it'd been good around Christmas, but since then it had slid precipitously. I worked hard. I tried to be a good husband, a good father. I knew I was no Ryan Gosling, but I tried to make her happy. I loved her very deeply. I enjoyed the kids.

In our younger days, not so long ago actually, she liked to cuddle. Cuddling, that's a funny word, a strange word. I watched TV, not a lot, but some. When lovers cuddled on TV they talked and giggled and stuff. When Frieda and I cuddled it was like I did all the cuddling, while she did a lot of sighing and murmuring, not much touching though. Sometimes she cried; not a lot of loud boo-hooing, just a kind of solemn weeping. It bothered me. I know she loved me, I just didn't know why she cried. When I asked her she said it was nothing.

Couldn't say when the cuddling stopped exactly, maybe sometime in January, but it had pretty much dried up by the Super Bowl.

About the sex she used to always say she liked it any way she could get it. Nowadays she said she preferred it doggy style; she said I got in further. I'd jokingly said maybe she was just tired at looking at my ugly mug; she laughed, but she'd turned away when she'd said it. She liked me to go down on her, but she hardly ever reciprocated. Lately she'd been working extra hard and fast to get me up and ready, that meant a lot of hand work for her. The past few weeks I felt when we were together it was like she was performing a chore, faking orgasms, just doing it to get it done. I could always tell when she was faking.

~~V~~

I got to the line of houses; there were six of them, all new, all cheaply made, all with big garages. Her car was still parked in the woods on the opposite side of the road. It was a mystery why she'd parked it there. Now what was I going to do about it? I didn't know. I sat there and looked at her car. Damn...

We'd been married over fifteen years. Lauren, our oldest had been our little love child. I'd been at community college and Frieda had just graduated high school, third in her class of two hundred. It had been one of those prom night graduation things; a long night of partying followed by several days at the beach. We were young and in love, at least I was. We never even thought about protection. Toward the end of summer just as she was getting ready to go to Cornell the morning sickness began. Abortion was out of the question so we got married. I dropped out of school and went to work for my dad and with my older brother's help learned the business, been building houses ever since. Lauren came. Frieda started at community college, then the local state college. She never made it to Cornell but she got a degree. Over the course of our time together we'd added two more kids.

We had a nice home, an older farmhouse on a twelve acre piece of ground. We had the usual stuff, horses, chickens, a couple dogs. The girls, like their brother joined the FFA and 4H, the girls each had a sheep.

I knew Frieda had been disappointed about Cornell; she'd missed her big chance. God I'd been sucking that up for years; her parents never let me forget. Her parents were kind of standoffish, at least toward me.

I tried, honest to God I tried. I'd known she was out of my league when we married. I think she only dated me that spring because her regular boyfriend had dumped her, but even though I knew I was just the consolation prize I loved her like crazy. Ever since I'd done his best. I swore, though I'd always known she felt cheated, she never wanted for anything. I'd done all I could, and man I always really cared about her. I heard where some women who cut out because they felt neglected, but I'd never neglected Frieda. Sure there was work, and never enough money, but I always did my best. I always tried to live up to what I thought she wanted. That was definitely her car. Now what should I do?

I sat in my truck and considered my alternatives. I guessed I could wait until Frieda and who she was with came out, and cause a big scene, maybe start a fight, or I could unlock her car and disable it. I had a key I could do that. I could pretend I never saw her car, but then Forrest and Barney already knew. I supposed Barney had already told his wife. Shit by nightfall everybody would know.

I needed to find out who she was with. Was the person married? Did I know him? I needed to know if this was her first time. Had she cheated on me before? I had my suspicions. Hell, was she cheating now? I needed to talk to my brother. Figuratively, I was pulling my hair out.

Getting out my cell phone I clicked in Forrest's number. He picked up right away. Waiting he guessed, "Hello Forrest?"

"Yeah it's me."

"Don't let on to anyone what we saw this morning. I need to decide what to do. OK?"

I heard, or imagined I heard a disgusted sigh, "Yeah... Sure."

"And call Stephen; tell him I might not make it today, but don't tell him why, and call Barney and tell him to keep quiet." Stephen was my other brother, he never much liked Frieda; he said she always acted like she was better than anybody else. Jesus I just knew Barney had told his wife.

Closing up my phone I pulled back into the woods and waited. There was Forrest; he wanted to go to community college. He had his plans set, get the small stuff out of the way and then off to Virginia Tech. Then there was my son Jessie, Katie, our older daughter, and Lauren our oldest. How would this affect them? Frieda was their mom. I couldn't just... Hell, I didn't even know for sure. What if she'd gone to Lancaster with some colleague and left her car at that person's house? That made sense.

All right I checked the street. There were cars scattered about, but with the garages who knew?

The current charity had brought in a new guy, a finance manager. I vaguely knew him; quiet fellow, married, unobtrusive, thinning hair, a little overweight, but I thought he went to a gym. What if they'd gone to Lancaster together? If it was him it could be OK. I decided to wait; it could be anybody, anything.

It was barely 5:00 a.m., if she was in Lancaster check out would probably be 11:00. It took nearly two hours to get from there to where we lived, so she might hang around at wherever she was till as late as noon. That was if she was there, and I was being suspicious about nothing?

So what should I do? Wait? No I had a better idea. The sun was pretty much up. If she was in Lancaster she'd probably be rolling out of bed soon. Why not call? I popped open my cell and tapped her pre-logged number. It rang twice. She picked up on the third ring. I heard her voice, "Hello? Damn, Garrett, what do you want?"

I stupidly replied, "You're my wife. I woke up and was worried. Had a bad dream. You OK? You still in Lancaster?"

She shot back, "Yeah, still in Lancaster. Look its awful early. I need to sleep. I'll see you when I get home, or when you get home. OK?"

I responded, "Yeah, sure." I hung up... I decided to wait right where I was. Maybe she was in Lancaster?

~~V~~

Oh no. Just after 11:00 Frieda came out of the fourth house. She looked fresh and clean. Sure enough she was followed by a man wearing just pajama bottoms; it wasn't anybody I suspected. He walked her across the street to her car. They talked for a moment. They held hands. At the last moment he leaned down for a kiss, but she leaned away so it ended as a peck on the cheek. Like that mattered. I watched as she air-kissed him back, then got in her car. He watched her pull away, and then re-crossed and went back inside.

Frieda started her car and, making a left, she pulled out on the road. She drove right past where I was parked. Had she looked over she would have seen me. I saw her quite clearly, she had her radio on. I heard it. She was singing something and thumping the top of her dashboard. She looked happy, no she looked excited.

I pulled out and drove east in the opposite direction. I didn't get very far. My head was throbbing! I ached all over. When Katy felt sick she said she felt fragile. That's how I felt. I hadn't had anything to eat, but I felt like I was going to throw up so I pulled over, got out and sat down on the grass. Nothing came up, but I sat there a while anyway. I felt terrible! Was it because I was sick, or was it because of what I saw?